You knaves. You pandering, caterwauling varmints. This is
not the Miracle Whip Challenge. It’s not the goddamn Bisquick Invitational.
It’s not the Campbell’s Cream Of Mushroom Peek-A-Boo. It’s the 16th
Annual Seattle Waterfront Neighborhood Chowder Cook-Off. The SWNCCO. You do not phone this in. You do not run to Safeway,
get canned clams and a gallon of half-and-half, throw that crap in the pot and
expect sorcery to mutate out an award-winning chowder. I will f***ing clam bam the next person I hear about doing something like that.

This is the eighth year in a row my family’s attended this.
I have noticed some patterns in how restaurants handle this clam chowder
cook-off.

1. Anthony’s Pier 66
just never brings it. Never. They never have their head in the game. They never
innovate. They just shove what they make every day out there and figure you’ll
drool for it because they are the big fish (ha) on Pier 66. I have never ranked
them in the top half, I don’t think. This year they were dead last.

2. Ivar’s also
phones it in every year, and since they’re the most recognizable brand name on
the waterfront and carry the most popular reputation, I guess I understand
that. To a point. But whether they’ve sucked or succeeded with me depends
almost entirely on the time I get to their chowder. If it’s been sitting a long
time, it usually sucks. If it’s hot off the stove, generally, they do okay.
This was one of their better years, but it was only good enough for fifth.

3. The Six Seven
at the Edgewater takes this shit seriously, year in, year out. I think up until
last year they’d won several years in a row (I cannot locate the
official records) and they made a point to tell me last year. The Six Seven has
never finished below third place any year I’ve done this. This, however, was a
year in which they finished third.

4. Finally, you just never know what’s going to come from
the Bell Harbor Conference Center.
Because they’re a meetings facility. They’re not so much concerned with their cuisine because they’re too busy
fixing overhead projectors and optimizing their A/V displays for PowerPoint
and stuff. Some cook-offs, they will surprise you with their depth. Other times
they make you feel like you’re inconveniencing them by asking for the chowder that you paid a good entrance fee for. One time they ran out of chowder, which has never happened with anyone else, and
were nonchalant about it. I was incensed. I was livid. I got down on my knees
outside the boiler room and screamed, “Why, why, for the love of God why?” And
then I was raptured. But they sent me back because of some unpaid parking
tickets.

This year there were some new wrinkles.

1. Lobbying. The
Chowder Cook-Off participants have never pandered for votes. They’ve never
explained their M.O. But this year Hook
& Plow went to enormous lengths to curry favor with my daughter. “You
know why we won last year?” the presenter said to Lucie, as he pointed to the
stamp on our “passports” indicating that we’d visited their place. It was in
the shape of a pig. “That’s why!
Bacon!” Then he stamped Lucie’s wrist to remind her to consider them when
casting her final vote. The Hook & Plow did have some lovely, thick bacon
in their chowder, and going into the homestretch they were my leaders. But it
had nothing to do with the bacon, or the expertly sliced chives they
thoughtfully sprinkled on the soup. (That’s another wrinkle indigenous to the
Hook & Plow. Their soups were carefully crafted, then flourished with a
dollop of chives just before serving.)Bell
Harbor Conference Center bragged about, not just their chowder, but their creative process. “Everybody else just
does the same chowder year after year,” the server said. “Bell Harbor does
something different every year.” That’s true. Sometimes it’s good – a couple of
times it was a solid dark horse – and sometimes, not so much.

2. Asking my status.
No participant has ever asked me “Do you have any favorites so far?” Ever. Ever. This year two of them did. And it’s a question I wouldn’t answer. Do you
think Steven Spielberg called up his Academy friends during the last award
season and asked, “Say, got any favorites for Best Director?” Of course not. It
would be uncouth. And if he were to call me up, if I was a member of the
Academy that is, I wouldn’t tell him. “Uh, yeah, you’re pretty good Steve,
but this year I preferred Ang Lee.” Are you kidding? Never tip your hand. Never.

3. Fisherman’s failed.
This is a first. Fisherman’s was always a consistent top five finisher for me.
One year I proclaimed them best. This year they went way down.

4. The Crab Pot used a lot ofthyme. Normally this
wouldn’t be a big deal to me, but I have some very painful past moments
concerning the use of thyme in clam chowder. See, awhile back I had this
girlfriend. We made plans one afternoon for me to come over to her house to
make her some clam chowder. I got the recipe from a book. The ingredient list
included thyme. My then-GF got a little persnickety about it. “Thyme? What are
you using thyme in a clam chowder recipe for?” To make it worse, between the
time I purchased the thyme and the time I started cooking we ran into one of
our mutual friends at the bar. Then-GF started complaining about how I needed
thyme for my chowder. This mutual friend supported
her. “I’ve never heard of thyme being used in clam chowder.”

What? What the hell is wrong with you people? Obviously someone used thyme in clam chowder
before because I found this flippin’
recipe that calls for it! Are you saying I can’t read? Are you saying
Martha Stewart (or whoever it was) is an insurgent, reckless thyme slut? And
when did you get so straight-edge about clam chowder? Where in the code does it
say you can never use thyme in clam chowder? The hell? I’m using thyme. Screw all y’all.

So to taste the Crab Pot’s clam chowder recipe, which was
absolutely drenched with thyme, was a great moment of absolution for me. Here,
you shrieking harpies. Here’s your goddamn thyme. At a restaurant. I’m
vindicated. (Really, the only remnants of my past that need to be vindicated are in the realm of cuisine. Everything else has been taken care of or swept under the karmic rug.)

However, I only ranked the Crab Pot fourth. Good, but too
much thyme.

5. The recession took
Steamer’s. They weren’t there this year. They closed their waterfront location. They never contended as far as I
remember, so less work for me.

As far as who gave us the best chowder – well, despite my
manufactured indignity over Hook &
Plow begging for votes, their chowder with thick-cut, smoky bacon and
chives was pretty damn good. It had balance and assertiveness. It had amazing
texture. It was so delicious, I gave it second place. Bacon solves almost everything, but "almost" is for slackers.

The winner was… Bell Harbor Conference Center. Their chowder was so amazing that
after I got home I googled who their executive chef was: Jay Bartleson.
It wasn’t even close. For one thing, Bartleson published his ingredient list –
shallots (I will always like you if you use shallots), Andouille sausage and
spiced rum. When I saw “spiced rum” I was apprehensive – I usually don’t favor recipes
that use hard liquor, and rum has never been my drink of choice. But
good Lord, it worked this time. It gave such a distinctive and pleasing edge, I
exed the other contenders out of my head. And there’s a reason Andouille
sausage exists – it almost unfailingly guarantees that whatever dish it’s in
will not suck.

So there you go, Seattle waterfront restaurants – at least
this year, you got beaten by a meetings facility. Maybe you could book a room
there and use PowerPoint to figure out why you lost. See you next year, maybe.